


Plastic Cups

by Blackwhiteandgrey



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: AU (bar), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8806078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackwhiteandgrey/pseuds/Blackwhiteandgrey
Summary: Daryl gets a new job. He finds it hard concentrating on acting professional when he has a good looking man darting around him.





	1. Chapter 1

“…all I want is for each table to be served straight away, for glasses to be cleaned, and for the tables to be wiped down. Honestly, it’s like banging my head against a wall!”  
Rick paced in front of the small, unimpressed, group. He had started the staff meeting to tell them they had new staff because of the Christmas period, but having seen how neglected his bar was, he had somehow descended into a rant. Exhaling slowly to calm himself, he steadied himself to leave.  
“Can you all look a little more fucking presentable too?”

He felt everyone’s eyes shift behind him. He whipped his head around to rest his eyes on a very nervous member of staff. Clearly new, he thought, as he took in the wrinkled, off-white shirt. He passed an exasperated hello and left.

“Hi, sorry, am I in the right place?”  
Daryl felt his face flush as he took in the beautifully well-kept group in front of his. He thought back to the last hour as he desperately searched for a white shirt between his friends, finally finding one of Abraham’s that was clearly far too big for him. The sleeves had to be folded up to his forearm, and tucked into his trousers, pooling over his belt slightly. Luckily, sparing the length of the shirt, it actually fitted his muscular frame well. It had obviously been neglected for a while, because there was no chance of it fitting Abraham now. Someone informed him he was meant to be there, he heard names, took none of them in, and moved with the group towards the back of the bar.

“I’m so sorry about that. Honestly, he’s great to work for, but this week has been really difficult with the Oswald’s booking in”  
Daryl hadn’t realised he was being led behind the bar and shown the stock room. He looked around the plethora of expensive alcohol, smiling at the look on his friends faces if the saw this room, then back to the man next to him. He wasn’t out of place in the slightest, which was off for a man so hairy. His long, dark hair had been tied back into a neat bun on the head allowing his bright eyes to distract clientele from his untraditional look.  
“They’re big money for us, which is why once a year it turns to chaos. You lucked out coming this week” He scratched his cheek where he had obviously trimmed his neatly kept beard.

“Don’t worry about it, man, I’m used to way worse where I’ve been”

The man raised his eyebrow “Oh, where were you last? I’m Paul, by the way. I know you’ll forget everyone, but you’ll remember me quickly. We’re on the lounge bar together the next week.” He gave a sly smile, tapped Daryl’s shoulder, and walked towards the front, having seen a customer.

Daryl spent the rest of his short shift getting acquainted with the odd, expensive, liquor and cocktail menus. Feeling pity for any waiting staff that had to carry those martini glasses to rude, obnoxious, guests. It was a very different job. Silver service would never have been his pick, but it was this or doing sales work. He would easily go back to Gregory’s, but they had filled his position as soon as he had punched the guy and walked out. Punching your boss. Bad idea. Must not punch new boss.  
He had to mentally scold himself.

“So, you never said where you worked before?” Paul asked, while preparing cosmopolitan’s for the beautiful, blonde woman at the end of the bar. He flashed them a smirk before shaking the mixer in the air to taunt them. This was obviously why the tip jar seemed so heavy. 

“I worked in Gregory’s, ya know it? Lil hole in the wall that hasn’t changed in twenty years. Sorta biker’s dive, but I loved it. Got int’a disagreement with the manager so thought I’d, er…try my hand at something different.”

Paul gave a knowing look before skirting around him with ease to place his drinks in front of the two ladies, leaning far closer to them than was necessary. Daryl watched on, dropping his eyes to the strained trousers over his, surprisingly, plump ass. He made his way back, dispensing a wad of notes in the till Daryl stood at, and a few in the jar behind it.  
“Never heard of it, but If I stumble across it one night I’m out I’ll pop in. You still drink there?” 

Daryl nodded. He had been glad to see Gregory left when he had. It meant he was able to go in and visit his friends when he couldn’t get them out.

The shift ended. He took the final glass from the washer and placed it upon the shelf as staff poured out the door laughing. They asked him to join them at the next bar, but he politely declined. He’d wait to know them better before he let them in on that side of him.  
He exited the building to see a slim figure perched against his bike, smoke billowing from his lips. He hadn’t noticed Paul’s lips before. Perhaps the light behind the bar had distracted him, but he didn’t realise how smooth they were, hidden under his facial hair. His throat caught, he coughed, making himself known. Paul smiled at him when me noticed and flicked his cigarette into the bin.  
“Would you mind giving me a ride to bar, I really didn’t want to walk with everyone. They take so long!”

“Sure, if you want” Daryl shrugged, causing Paul to jump to his feet and break into a delighted smile. He mounted his bike, shuffled forward, and looked towards Paul who slid on behind him easily. His small frame seemed to move too quickly for Daryl. He hadn’t had time to adjust to the quickness of it. The lump in his throat was back. He hastily steadied the machine and heard it rumble to life, hoping the steady vibration would help distract him from Paul’s hands, placed on his hips to hold him steady.  
He got to the bar fairly quickly, and switched the engine off.

“Are you really sure you don’t want to come in for one? Get to know us?” Daryl declined again and Paul sighed.  
“I’ll see you in a few days then!” He took his time moving his leg from the back of Daryl’s bike. His hand slid slightly down Daryl’s hips as he steadied himself. Is he doing this on purpose? Why does he flirt with everyone? Once Paul was out of sight Daryl raised his head to the sky, pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, steady breath from his mouth.

 

*

“How was your first shift, asshole?” Maggie yelled, before the door had even closed behind him. Daryl barely heard her over the noisy music emanating from the jukebox in the corner currently surrounded by a young group of guys arguing over who was to go first. Daryl punched one in the lower back as he passed, causing them to roll their blackened eyes at him. He rounded the peeling, black bar top to the hatched entrance, and hugged his friend.

“Get me a Jack, please” He mumbled as Maggie’s short, chestnut hair tickled his nose. He heard a muffled groan as she walked away to get it. She placed it in front of the stool with an exasperated look.

“So, tell me about the guy”  
She knew there always was a guy when Jack Daniels was requested so quickly.

Daryl’s mind flashed back to those bright, mischievous eyes. He went red and downed his drink.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm so deep in this pairing i've read far too much from here and had to write my own. I'll try to get a new chapter up every few days. Hopefully trying to make it a slow burn (if i don't get too excited/carried away)

“Fuck sakes!” Daryl muttered, exasperated, as he stormed through to the back of the bar “I can’t fucking do this” He had spent the past ten minutes listening to a group of women complain that their cars valet was far more expensive than the next and therefore had missed out on something. They had proceeded to order from Daryl with only a precursory grimace in his direction. Jesus had spotted what was happening and quickly slid in front of Daryl, gave him a sideways glance and politely started debating with the women what drink they should get. He flirted and gave suggestions so easily he missed their judgemental looks turn to lust. It was too frustrating for Daryl to watch so he stormed to the stock room. 

Jesus came in, nostrils flared, ready for an argument. He stopped in his tracks as soon as he found Daryl sitting on a crate with his fingers pressed to his temples.   
“Look, Daryl, I know it’s only been a few weeks, but you can’t pull shit like that. It reflects badly on me and I’ve been here a long time. It took a lot to get these people to accept me so get a grip. You work here, you deal with pretentious shit. Part of the package. That’s why it pays well.” He rolled his eyes and huffed after receiving no reply. He left the small room and went back to the bar.

Daryl had noticed that Paul’s initial pleasantness disappeared quickly once the realisation that he was unable to adjust to being so professional. He watched, transfixed, as Paul darted around him, sometimes placing his hands on Daryl’s lower back to warn him he was there, before effortlessly greeting guests. He was able to adapt how he acted with each person that approached him and let any negativity slide over him. He had a sensuality about him that seemed to draw everyone in. Daryl would catch himself laughing at pairs of, clearly very straight, men muttering amongst themselves about how nice a guy Jesus was while he got their orders. No one seemed to escape his charm. Especially not Daryl. He’d noticed how attractive Paul was quickly, but he was having trouble forgetting about him once his shift was over. He’d catch himself thinking about trivial conversations they had about work. 

What am I doing? Get a grip, Dixon! He took a deep breath and got to his feet. With a promise to himself he’d make this job work, he watched towards the front to apologise to Paul.

*

Three weeks later and Daryl still hadn’t adapted. He had learned the bar quickly and was at least on first name basis with most of the staff, having made a friend in one – Glenn. Glenn had found him two weeks into the job, holding an empty bowl, staring at the puree soaked floor in defeat. He helped him clean the strawberry slush as best they could before anyone found them and Daryl found himself opening up to Glenn’s silent questions. He found it difficult to speak to people, but it was always easier when they left him to do it in his own time. The quieter they were, the easier it was. Since then they’d spoke regularly and had exchanged phone numbers to talk outside of work. He was a sincere guy who genuinely seemed to want to help Daryl fit in. Glenn covered for him when he, inevitably, made mistakes.

Daryl peeled himself from his bed with a groan. It was late afternoon and he’d made the mistake of sleeping all day after the previous night’s shift. He had another ahead of him, but he was regretting letting a whole day be wasted. As he brushed his teeth, he started at the rough reflection in the mirror. His age was beginning to show. He suited the hair in his eyes, the sleep deprived puffiness hidden behind it. The hair on his chin, getting lighter with age, making it look unkempt. With this new job he looked out of place. Homeless compared to the beautiful clients in their clean suits and fitted dresses. He rinsed his mouth and sighed before taking the razor from his bath and staring at it until he worked up the nerve to start the day.

“Who the hell is that!” Glenn whispered to him as he entered the bar. 

Daryl rolled his eyes “Shut up. I’m tryin” He continued around the bar top and moved in to the back to drop off his helmet and jacket. He wasn’t paying attention and nearly ran into Paul in the doorway. 

“Sorry I didn’t see…Daryl, your face” A smirk appeared on Paul’s face, causing his stomach to squirm “You look so different. I barely recognised you” He moved to the side to let Daryl into the room and paused for a second “do you like it here?” He asked.

Daryl wasn’t sure how to reply. He didn’t want to look up. The room was too small and he could see Paul’s face too clearly from where he was. It made answering much harder when he was unable to think coherently.   
“Yeah, I guess. It’s a job. I can’t say I love it like I did Gregory’s, but I’m getting to know everyone and trying my best” He concentrated putting his things on a chair in the corner, answering with his back to Paul. He turned after a moment of staring at the zipper of his jacket pocket to notice he was now alone.

After a few hours working the bar with Paul he was starting to get irritated. He hadn’t spoken in what felt like at least an hour and was serving every waitress who came to them because Paul seemed engrossed in a conversation with a woman sitting at the end of the bar. She was devastatingly beautiful. Her long, dark, hair rolled in waves over one side of her face and down her arm. She was wearing a black, floor length dress and blood red lipstick. She wouldn’t have looked out of place on a red carpet. As she sipped on her cocktail, she leaned into the bar, making sly smiles and listening to everything Paul said. From what Daryl could make out he had a lot to say because every time he looked over the smaller man was moving his lips feverishly as if he had a lot to say.   
Eventually, as the bar became busier, she stood, kissed Paul’s cheekbone, and left the bar. Every man in the room followed her with their eyes.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to be away for so long, I had a lot to catch Rosita up on” Paul stated as he stood next to Daryl, looked into the mirrored bar backdrop, and wiped the red mark from his cheek with a napkin. “God damn girls and their lipstick”

Daryl snorted. He wasn’t irritable because he was left to bare the brunt of the work, but because he felt a wave of nausea fall over him as he watched Paul wipe his cheek. He was jealous and that wasn’t something he could afford to feel with a job he was barely keeping at stake.  
“s’aight, I kept busy”

The bar eventually closed and Daryl took his helmet in his hands, happy that he had lasted a whole shift without getting anything wrong. He passed a group of waitresses moving to sit with Paul in the lounge, bringing his drinks and fawning over his wide smile as he spoke. The drive home felt like an eternity, but when he finally turned the ignition off, he was finally home. Daryl, leaving a trail of clothes from the front, opened the bathroom door, turned the shower on and looks himself in the mirror much like he had that morning. His bare chest and arms looked dirty with the deep tan he wore. Thinking about how ridiculous he looked with his naked face, his mole standing out, and the age feeling less apparent in this clean cut state, he entered the shower and tried to stop himself thinking Rosita and her lips on Paul’s face.


	3. Chapter 3

“Jesus, move your ass, we’ve got tequila waiting!”  
Glenn, one of the few people Daryl’s adopted shadow, shouted through to the bar from the open doorway into the restaurant. He was sat opposite Daryl in a booth, removing his shoes with a grimace. They had worked as just three as it was only a Tuesday night. Daryl had noticed when the two friends were on shift it’d end with closed doors and drinks while Paul counted the money. He was in no position to refuse to stay. Glenn had given him such a deadly stare when he had informed Daryl tequila was the drink for the night that he couldn’t bring himself to fight it.  
“How long you think you’ll stay? In for the long haul like both us idiots?” 

“Yeah, if I can keep it up. Don’t know if I’m cut out for dealing with these posh idiots. I’m used to fuck up metal heads downing Jack”

Glenn snorted “As long as you can hold your tequila you’ll be fine. Drink up!” He raised his glass and watched Glenn mimic him “Jesus. Move!”

“Why the hell do you call him Jesus?”

“Are you kidding? You seen that idiot with his hair down? I’m surprised it took you this long to notice” 

Just as Daryl was about to respond he watch a very different man than he had seen an hour ago enter the room. He had the same tense look on his face as before, but his hair was now loose and lining his face, brushing his shoulders. Jesus. He understood now. The lump in his throat returned when their eyes met briefly. He noticed Paul’s eyes lighten when he clocked the shot glass brushing Daryl’s lips. Cheeks reddening, he dropped his hand, finally noticing he had frozen up.  
“It’s difficult to count with you screaming at me, asshole. Give me my drink!”  
He pushed Glenn further into the booth so he could sit opposite Daryl as Glenn shuffled between them. He took his drink in seconds and closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. “Damn that’s good”

They sat for longer than Daryl was comfortable with. He played with the stubble now grown in on his chin as he noticed the bottle get emptier. As it sat between them, slowly getting closer to the bottom, he grew quieter. The two smaller men created enough loud conversation to fill a space that wasn’t noticed. Every time Paul spoke he couldn’t help watch him.  
“People really callin’ you Jesus?” he snorted. He’d forgotten his promise to keep quiet.

“Yeah, well I didn’t really have much choice. Once this guy gets something in his head he never lets up. If only he could find a girl to distract him so he’d leave me alone”

Glenn snorted “In your dreams, Rovia” He slid towards Paul quickly, pressed his chest against his arm, and moved his mouth towards his cheek “You couldn’t handle me anyways. Now get out my way, I need to go piss”

Paul fell away from his as soon as his breath hit his cheek. He only just caught himself from falling out of the booth, laughing, as he misjudged his movement.  
“Ugh, you horrid drunken mess. Get away!”  
Glenn proceeded to fall from the booth, finding himself so hilarious he forgot how to walk. They continued to hear him laughing and talking to himself as he left the room. Paul sat back down and took his time analysing Daryl.

“Please don’t call me Jesus” He stated, flatly. Daryl lifted his gaze, catching his blue eyes and noticing the edges crinkle as he gave a sly smile “can’t seem to escape it. You’re my only chance and you seem sane enough to listen”

Daryl gave a stiff nod, not really knowing what else to say. Luckily Glenn returned and pushed Paul now into the middle. He didn’t feel this close to Glenn when he sat in the same space. 

“So, you know any good looking girls in need of a seriously disappointing time? Please don’t be greedy: share!” Glenn laugh barely hid his seriousness.

Daryl deliberately moved his hand from the seat. It was far too close to Paul’s and he was having trouble thinking clearly.  
“I don’t know, you two look pretty cosy just now. Sure you don’t want to give Paul a shot first?”

He had meant it as a joke to distract himself from his thoughts, but the noise that erupted both men shocked him. Glenn burst out laughing, much as he had before, making very sure Daryl knew he wanted a girl and to be serious as he needed his help getting one. Jesus snorted, almost affronted.

“Nah, he’s not my type. Damn child. I’d rather a man” Glenn’s intoxicated mind took great offence and pushed Paul, harder than he might have meant to. Daryl met his eye. He knew that Paul had meant it. He hadn’t expected it to be a revelation; he had expected him to be straight. The way he acted with women was too natural. As if he had perfected how to attract a woman over time and practice.

“Oh, sorry, I was joking. I thought you were with that girl who came round the other day” Daryl knew fine well her name was Rosita. Her beauty had plagued him for a week as he thought about how happy Paul looked with her.

Paul sighed “Man, if I was straight I’d be the luckiest guy in the world. She is the most perfect woman alive”

Once Glenn had made them aware how drunk he’d become by playing music and dancing in the barely lit restaurant they knew it was time to go. Paul leaned closer, put his hand around Daryl’s bicep, and squeezed it gently. He shuffled closer once Daryl noticed and moved his head so his hair brushed Daryl’s shoulder. Trying to talk quietly, making sure his friend didn’t see, he whispered.  
“I think we need to get him home, but he won’t get in a taxi unless we all go and he thinks it’s his idea. You ready to go?”

Daryl gulped, his head facing his lap. He nodded and raised his eyes slightly to see Paul move back to his previous position, the shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew then that Paul was very aware of the effect he had on people.

“Glenn, you working tomorrow? I think we all might be” Paul asked, stretching his arms above his head like a cat.

Glenn took a look at his, pausing mid-move, and seemed to lose all his energy at once. “Damn, we might be. Let’s all go home for a bit? I’m beat. You both look worse than me” He grabbed what was left of the bottle, having drunk most himself, and took the last swig of it.  
Their taxi arrived quickly. After sandwiching Glenn between them they managed to get him home without any further problems. They dragged him from the back seat, taking an arm each they managed to get him to his door. Daryl bore his weight as Paul found keys to open the door and they fell through. He made himself busy getting water and meds as Daryl found the small mans bed and placed him on it, on his stomach with his face towards the edge of the bed.

“Think it’s safest to crash here just in case” Daryl jumped as Paul appeared behind him silently.

He shook his head. He was only a ten minute walk to his own place, and he couldn’t sleep somewhere strange. “Nah, ‘am close by, I’ll head”

Paul made him take his phone number to know he got home alright and walked him to the door. He opened it and moved enough to let Daryl by. Not before brushing his fingers across the older mans shoulder, letting the area catch fire underneath his fingertips.  
“Thanks for helping and for staying after tonight. I’m nicer than I come across. I know I can be an asshole, sorry”

Daryl nodded “You didn’t. don’ worry about it. Least I ain’t Glenn right now”

Paul let out a small laugh and let Daryl exit into the breaking daylight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A touch longer than the last few?  
> Still finding my feet. I haven't wrote fic in 10 years so go easy on me.
> 
> Also, The Fucking Clash.

“I hate my life!” Glenn groaned as he rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. His jet black hair was greasy with sweating out the alcohol in his system and and his clothes began to smell rank. He already needed to change. 

Daryl had been sitting on the front step of the building with him, waiting on their shift starting, for a half hour. Glenn had groaned and grumbled the entire time.

“Shut tha’ hell up, ya sound like a damn zombie” Daryl pushed his shoulder and rolled his eyes. Christ, had this kid never suffered a hangover? He wasn’t that much older than him, surely? Ten years give or take.

“Fuck you, Daryl! You left. Jesus played his stupid, depressing music until the break of dawn. I can’t feel anything. Then he had the audacity to go home because he doesn’t start for another two hours” As he grumbled more incoherently, Rick startled them by pulling the giant doors open. They fell backwards into the lobby. 

“Didn’t see you both there. Want breakfast?” Daryl nodded while getting to his feet. He extended a hand for Glenn who held him like his bones would break if he let go.  
“Christ, Glenn, you alright? Let’s get some coffee in you”

They both followed him inside, towards the lounge, and into the very same booth they sat in the previous night. Rick went towards the back to tell the chef to add two breakfasts as Glenn collapsed on the soft leather of the booth. His face instantly sticking to it  
“I hate you both” he grumbled.

The chef, Frank, came out holding two plates, whilst Rick held the other two and the four of them sat in silence and ate. Frank was a genuine guy who would cover for Daryl when he, inevitably, dropped plates or ruined orders. He wasn’t like any chef Daryl had worked with before who would take their frustration out on the staff who were able to leave the heat of the kitchen. He seemed impervious to sweltering temperature, never having a bead of sweat escape his furrowed brow. He was a very large, intimidating man who would be terrifying if he didn’t speak in such a jovial voice. Once finished they cleared their plates and began setting up for the shift ahead.

Two hours later the lunch rush was in full swing and Daryl was back behind his bar with Jesus. Paul. He reminded himself. Paul had sauntered in, completely unaffected and oblivious to Glenn’s suffering. He laid his jacket in the back room and joined Daryl with a quick hello before beginning his work. His freshly showed hair was in a quick bun at the nape of his neck and his face was fresh. The fresh, white, shirt he wore make his large eyes shine when he looked at anyone. Once the rush had ended they had an hour or so to spare before the pre-theatre guests arrived. Usually this time was held for restocking and organising the bar, but it occurred to Daryl that they worked so well together this was rarely required. Instead, they pretended to make themselves busy as they passed the time.

“…so Maggie grabs this guy by the collar of his shirt, pulls ‘im down to her level, and does that quiet voice mums do to scare their kids” Daryl gesticulated wildly as he described Maggie taking on a strange face in Gregory’s. Usually they had a very regular crowd, groups of strangers, and the odd troubled loner. They were pretty good at dealing with the latter “She just hooks ‘im around the bar, draggin along half bent, an’ throws ‘im to the kirb. It was fantastic. Never seen him again.” He chuckled watching the horror grow on Paul’s face.

“Sounds like an, er, interesting place. Always trouble?” 

“Yeah, but once ya deal with it once you know what to do. Plus, the regulars got ya back”

Paul nodded, looking concerned, intrigued. His brow unfurrow and he let a small smile pass his lips before looking over Daryl’s shoulder towards Rick, beckoning him from the back room. He moved towards him, placing a hand on Daryl’s shoulder as he passed. Daryl was beginning to get used to the feeling now. Usually, he could talk or work to distract himself from it – probably why he felt so comfortable talking to Paul. He lifted his head and shook it, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, his dry mouth begging for a drink, and his arm tingling warmth from the touch. He moved to get a glass and fill it from the tap. He was sure he’d always liked men. He’d ben with enough of both men and women to finally know who he was and what he liked, but he still found it difficult to connect to them. It was hard to find a boyfriend when you can barely hold a conversation with strangers.

He spent most of the shift thinking about how to fix himself. How could he possibly change? How was he meant to meet anyone if he didn’t? He’d only slept with people when he was dragged out, or regulars at the bar, and it had only ever been a one-time deal. 

Just as the sky darkened he looked at his watch and realised it was finished in ten minutes time. He’d already explain he had a gig to go to with friends from Gregory’s and that he’d have to go early. As he thought that, his phone buzzed, letting him know Maggie and Abraham were outside in the large man’s truck. He could see the confusion on guests faces as they passed by the dirty box containing a beautiful, scruffy woman and a pleasantly, terrifying man with fiery hair and a cigar dangling from the side of his smile. 

“That’s them here, d’ya mind if I go?” He asked Paul, looking into those large eyes and trying to pay attention to the answer. 

The smaller man stops his hand mid-pour, looked at Daryl with a frown, and set his face to it former politeness “Sorry, I totally forgot! Of course. Enjoy…who is it again?”

“Black Sabbath”

“Ah, right. Yeah. Enjoy. Don’t get too drunk after”

Daryl nodded, explained he would try not to, and left Paul to finish his shift. Outside he found exactly what he thought he pictured, and grinned as he opened the door to jump into the front cab, much to the disgust of guests leaving at the same time as him.

“Took you long enough, asshole, we don’t wanna be late” Abraham grinned at him as he shut the door. He looked excited as he took his hand from the back of the seat to pat Daryl’s knee. Taking the cigar from his mouth with the same hand he started the engine with the other. “Hope you’re ready for a motherload of cocks tonight. We’re drinking for Maggie too”

Two hours later they were almost at the front barrier, drinks in hand, and screaming the lyrics. Maggie had decided not to drink, having a dentist appointment the next morning and having no need to kill the doctor with her breath. True to his word, Abraham drank her allotted amount and then some. He was head and shoulders above everyone at the front, which seemed to annoy everyone around him. On top of that, he was waving his arms, splashing alcohol on them, and singing completely in his gruff voice as his friends watched on, unable to do anything. Once the set had finished they gradually made their way out the venue, Maggie swiping the keys from Abraham’s hand before he got near the driver’s door.

“Unlikely. Get in the side, you’re done for. Daryl, you goin home, or the bar? Think I’ll take him home and stay with him once I drop you off”

Daryl wasn’t ready to go home to his empty, cold flat yet. He was too elated from the music.   
“Take me to Gregory’s, I want more drink”

He knew going there he’d have peace if he wanted it. Maggie nodded, understanding, and started the engine. By the time they got there Abraham was snoring in the middle of the seat. His head resting on the back rest and his mouth agape, the noise rumbling from his mouth had continuously cause Maggie to snort or laugh every few second. Daryl loved that. He was so used to seeing her behind the bar having to deal with difficult customers. She pulled up to the side of the road, on a fairly busy street, in front of a hole in the wall. Daryl thanked her. He shoved Abraham to wake him up and exited the seat before he receives a blow intended for his shoulder. He watched as they drove of and worked the energy up to enter the noisy bar. Now he was here he was exhausted. It was dark outside and the customers were only going to be more obnoxious than usual. Instead of working the energy to go home, he sighed and turned to the door.

Once Daryl entered he knew he’d made a mistake. The cramped room was filled with so many people the staff had become flustered and sweaty. Luckily, it was the kind of place that would go unnoticed. Half of the clientele were sporting cut off stained with sweat, fallen Mohawks sticking to their foreheads, and dirty fingernails. Knowing he’d be recognised easily he dipped his head, concentrating on the ground, and hoping he wouldn’t get stopped for several conversations updating people on his whereabouts. Once he had circled the bar and gotten to the hatched end reserved for staff he raised his head and knitted his brows.   
Not quite sure how to deal with the sight, he seen Paul in front of his. He was no longer in his work shirt, but a band t-shirt that hung from his, cut at the sleeves. His hair was loose and falling over his shoulders. As Daryl looked, not having caught his eye yet, he seen Paul raise his hand and run his fingers through his hair, smiling at the girl behind the bar who had just handed him a glass of brown liquid. Paul turned and locked eyes with Daryl revealing a hint of laughter behind him, knowing how confused this was making the man in front of him.

“The hell’r you doin here?!” He grumbled as he approached Paul. Why did he sound so angry? He was oddly elated to see the smaller man here in a place he felt at home. In more control of himself. Which is definitely what he felt. He didn’t feel his heart rate quicken, or adrenaline course through him.

If he thought Paul would react to his harsh greeting, he was wrong. He gave a noncommittal shrug and a small smile. “You never shut up about this place and I really could handle a full night of Glenn saying I caused his headache. I wasn’t ready to go home yet. It’s alright. Been chatted up a few times though”

Daryl rolled his eyes and took a stool next to him at the bar “Shocked”

“You enjoy Sabbath?” 

“Yeah, it was gr-Sorry, Pete can I get a Jack?- It was fantastic. Getting on a bit now though”

Paul nodded, knowingly. “Still have to go before it’s too late huh”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence after a few minutes. Each sipping their drinks and becoming aware they’d never been around each other unless it was work related. Paul looked so comfortable in his own clothes. Daryl ran his eyes over him. That damn lump. “You like The Clash?” 

Paul looked confused for a beat, realised why Daryl had asked and smiled. “Yeah kind of” 

After three more rounds and several conversations about working in Gregory’s they were becoming far more relaxed. The sofas behind them became available as the bar emptied out with the hours getting later. 

“I am flush” Paul sighed, looking at his glass. He looked reluctant to leave. “Better get going. See you in a few days?” He finished as he stood, startling Daryl, who still had his glass at his mouth. 

“You got anything in yours? I’m not tired yet” He regretted asking immediately. He was getting too carried away with himself, and if the past two hours had taught him anything it was that being around Paul was going to be difficult for some time.

Instead of awkwardly making an excuse and brushing it off, Paul surprised him again. He enthusiastically pulled Daryl, declaring there was a good bottle of rum in his cupboard. They left the bar, waving to the staff. They winked at Daryl. Paul had obviously not noticed as he continued on completely unaffected. 

He hadn’t been lying when he said it was close. A few corners away Daryl found himself standing in front of a flat pressed between two others. It looked small, one floor, and simple. Paul opened the peeling, red, front door and let Daryl in.   
Walking through the door was like walking into someone’s mind. The place had barely any furniture and opened up straight into the living room. There were two frumpy couches set askew in the middle of the room facing towards a television and fireplace. Above it was a large, intricate piece of Italian art. The thing that drew Daryl’s eye instantly was the corner of the room to the right of the door. He moved in the house and stepped towards a floor to ceiling bookcase which held so many vinyl’s he couldn’t comprehend trying to find one he wanted to listen to. On the middle shelf rested a record player with a vinyl still resting on it, needle perched away from it. He took the needle, placed it on the record and began to play a steady drum beat he recognised as “Spanish Bombs” by The Clash. The album: London’s Calling sat closest to the small player along with three other of their albums. 

Daryl turned to Paul with his eyebrow raised “Happened to ‘kind of’?”

Paul shrugged as he returned with a glass extended towards Daryl “Well, I do kind of like them. I kind of like a lot of music” He scanned his collection as he said it and turned to sit on the old couch as the song played.

Daryl joined him, glad to be staying near him for a while longer despite how much it was bound to become a problem for him.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl woke up to a sharp pain running through the front of his head. He slowly made his way into a sitting position, groaning every few inches as the pain hit him like a lightning bolt. He hadn’t woken like this in a long time. When he finally got himself upright he realised he didn’t know where he was. Two empty bottles of rum sat in front of him along with his wallet and keys. At least he hadn’t lost them, he thought.  
Disoriented, he got to his feet and made his way through to the door to his left. It was a kitchen. Nothing so far pointed out to him where he was and he began to panic. Just as he made his way back through to the first room he heard the sound of a door clicking and a man entering the room. He didn’t recognise Paul at first because of the towel covering his face.

“You’re awake! Tried to wake you, but you’re a fighter” Paul kept his voice soft, obviously aware of how fragile Daryl would be. He was rubbing his hair through the towel, his tshirt sticking to his chest as his arms lifted it to the wet skin.

The lump in his throat reappeared “Yeah, ah, sorry, I musta passed out las’ night. Time’s it? Don’ we have work?”

Paul nodded his head towards the change of clothes resting on the couch he hadn’t slept on “Had them in my room. They’ll fit you and saves going home. Hurry up, though, or we’re going to be late. Can’t deal with this headache and Rick’s temper in one day” He gave a quick smile and retreated to his bedroom, allowing Daryl some privacy. 

He took the shirt and trousers from the arm of the worn couch and found the bathroom. Stripping off his uncomfortably sweaty clothes he ran water in the sink, looked at himself in the mirror, and splashed a cupped handful on his eyes. He was tired. Sore. Frustrated. Why had be invited himself back here? He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Paul was his superior. He’d not only blurred the lines for himself, but now for his job. Cursing under his breath he pulled the clean, crisp white shirt over his shoulders.

 

*

Three hours later they were behind the bar working a function of men and women in their fifties who tipped well and were exceptionally polite. The great clientele had put everyone in good spirits and Daryl hadn’t had a second to act awkward or overthink. He had followed Paul’s lead and acted as though he had no hangover and they hadn’t spent any time together. He noticed they were both much more relaxed with one another. Paul became more tactile; touching Daryl’s arm, shoulder, elbow, and hip, to alert him he was near him. He had never really taken time to think about Paul in any way other than admiring his looks. The look on his face when someone irritated him, or the way he moved so fluidly he looked like he’d never hurt himself. That was a completely foreign way to live for the overly emotionally, clumsy oaf that Daryl seen himself as. 

After a long shift, great payoff, and a contented staff they began to close down. As Daryl left the safety of the bar to wipe down tables, Paul cleared the sticky residue left on its surface. The two worked in silence as they cleared the place out ready for the next day. Rick entered through the hallway, clearing his throat to alert them he was in the room. He cocked his head to the side and beckoned for them to follow him as he turned and walked towards the restaurant.  
When they both entered, after shooting a quick furrowed brow to one another, they faced the kitchen and restaurant staff who had taken up seats within two booths. Paul immediately walked towards Glenn and took a seat next to him. Daryl followed. Once two remaining staff sat down Rick addressed them.  
“Tonight has been exceptional. Honestly, we’ve never worked so well together. I believe to work as a family, as a team, we need to acknowledge our endeavours as well as our failures. So, with that said, we’re having a staff dinner on Friday. I’ve talked it over with the big guns and we’re closing for one night only. Dinner is in Peter’s in the city then we can decide drinks from there. Wine is on me!”  
He looked around the room as the staff muttered with excitement. From what Daryl could tell, they hadn’t been treated this well in a long time.

“Remember last time? That was, like, two years ago?”

“Oh my god, the steak in Peter’s is perfection. I can’t wait”

“I don’t have a dress nice enough for that. Oh no.”

Daryl became increasingly uncomfortable with the level of noise and excitement. He was about to excuse himself when Paul interrupted his train of thought.

“How you feeling about that? God anything to go in? I don’t. Only good clothes I own are for in here!” Paul had been muttering to him under his breath as he faced away from the group in their booth. Daryl felt a sense of relief wash over him as he realised how concerned Paul looked. He shook his head.

“Nope” He managed to mumble as he averted his eyes.

“Jesus, we’re we going for drinks? Will we leave tonight since this is in a few days?”

“Pre-drinks in your, Jesus?”

His attention was distracted by Glenn and Frank for so long he was able to slip out the booth unnoticed.

Or so he though. Rick caught up to him as he was rushing through the room to get him belongings from the bar back and leave. He didn’t need to questions.  
“You best be coming, Daryl. We barely know you and this is a great opportunity. Break bread. Swap war stories. It’ll honestly be great food and it’s free”

Daryl lifted his gaze to Rick’s squinting eyes. Concern laced the lines around his bright blues and Daryl couldn’t fight. 

“Mm, course. Be there” He nodded, knowing he wasn’t working before then giving him plenty opportunity to escape plans if he felt he needed to. He lowered his eyesight to Rick’s hand as it let his elbow and he rushed to the next room. After grabbing his helmet and jacket he excited the building before anyone else could stop him.

*

The hot water lashed his weathered skin in pleasant way. The days of grime running from his shoulders and back along with his anxious thoughts. He always felt safest in the shower. Cleansed. When he finally convinced himself to leave the warmth he dried, pulled on a soft tshirt and sweatpants before landing on his sofa harder than he had planned to. He had sat on both the remote for the TV and his phone. Daryl turned the television on to a random programme, barely awake enough to concentrate on the colours dancing in front of him. Just as he was about to dose off a buzz on his thigh shook him and he sat up alert. He lifted his glaring phone to his eyes, wiping away the sleep, and frowning at the strange number.

 

__

“Don’t even dare think about backing out on Friday. Come to mine around dinner time so we can eat first and you can take care of my drunk ass this time –J”


End file.
